


Icon For Hire

by FloodFeSTeR



Series: Icon For Hire [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Conspiracy, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Girls with Guns, Government Conspiracy, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loss of Control, Loss of Trust, Mercenaries, Mind Control, Power Imbalance, Psychological Torture, Spies & Secret Agents, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10388022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloodFeSTeR/pseuds/FloodFeSTeR
Summary: We wear crowns given, not taken. take life instead of give. we sweep through villages like contagion and conquer conquer conquer .Chapter I: Introduction** a spin-off of Aviator39s upcoming story There's A Flaw In My Code **





	

**Author's Note:**

> No, Devon's story isn't posted yet and already there's a spin-off but I had to go ahead and do this because we only have two chapters done of the actual piece. 
> 
> There will be one shots and other things branching off from this story, so look out for those. 
> 
> I was really inspired.
> 
> I have a Twitter, and ask you to follow for update information and stuff like that [ @LikePicklez ]

She hates waiting.

It's never been her favorite thing to do, no matter how important; she wasn't really a patient person.

Even though her activities demanded it.

Devon sighed and flicked the shiny wrapper over the edge of the cat walk, looking out over the city with a bored expression, teeth drawing lazily over the sugary strip in her mouth. It was so pretty at night, her opinion on that never changed, even after all these years. As a child, she had thought the distant lights of the city were just really big stars, of course she knew better now, but they still sparkled and shined like stars.

"Come on," she grumbled, turning from the edge of the building and striding towards her outpost.

Heels clicked against the roof, her fingers flexing around her leather gloves; a last minute thing, of course, as always. But she liked it, so she never complained to whoever was paying her.

But she would also really enjoy having a reliable source, you know? She didn't need half-assed information because _No_ , they weren't where they were supposed to be like she was told.

People like this, she didn't mind killing.

It seemed petty, but she had a schedule to keep and these shoes were killing her, she was supposed to be at a gala over an hour ago.

She settled against the matt she had laid out, settling the butt of her rifle against her shoulder and staring down the scope just as the apartment lights flicked on. A man, late thirties, was flipping through the mail as he approached the ornate island in his kitchen, throwing down a bill in frustration; she could almost hear the sharp jingle of his keys as they hit the counter.

Devon only had to twitch, and blood was blooming over his white button-up, the wall in front of him.

He clutched at his chest as he sank to the floor, lost, dying, and no one would hear. She'd made sure to strip him of his phones, all thrown into the canal, and his walls were sound-proofed for the poor women he drug in there day and night.

Surveillance had given her the resolve to finish this.

She sighed and sat up on her knees, pushing back her hair and thanking the October air for a chill that she could feel even through the thick coat she had on. She packed up the rifle, disassembling it, and started for the exit as she pulled out her phone, typing a number from memory.

She'd have to clear her history on her laptop when she got home.

"My lawyer told me the settlement should come in around noon tomorrow," she shut the door behind her and started down the dim corridor. "Am I right?"

"You are," _an encrypted voice, really? Who the hell does that in real life?_

"Then I'll see you there," and she hung up, stuffing her phone into her pocket and continuing down the stairs to the first floor.

She hailed a taxi and slid into the back, giving the driver directions before she put up the divider and started shrugging out of her coat, pulling out a small roll of tan fabric from her coat as she toed off her heels. She rolled the stockings up her legs and did a little dance in the back to get them up her hips as the city flew past her.

New York. She adored the city, the shuffle of the day-to-day that seemed savage and everyone-for-themselves. She had always faired well in the bigger cities, never stumbled or faltered, fast paced couldn't compare to how her days went.

She adjusted her dress as the car rolled to a stop in front of the sloping steps, sequins dancing in the lighting from outside, and she lowered the divider. She paid the driver and grabbed her case and coat, shoving her feet into her heels before climbing the steps. She hummed as she did so, passing faces that recognized her but veered out of her direction even though she was sure they would pass along the rumor that they had talked to her.

She hid away her case and coat, on the third floor, making sure she wasn't seen by anyone, and then stood above the crowd from the second story balcony. A man offered her champagne and she took the glass, giving him a devilish little wink before shooing him away and continuing her gander at the clueless masses.

"I was told you were finally ready to grace us with your presence," she rolled her eyes as Tony Stark sidled up beside her, leaning onto the balcony. "I didn't think you'd show up."

"I didn't think you'd send me an invitation."

"It was in your honor," he points out.

"And who told you to do that? People probably think I'm dead," she rolled her eyes and took a sip of her bubbling alcohol.

Tony chuckled and looked over at her, seeing a clear face and piercing, dark eyes, poised coffee-black hair that fell in gentle, wind-tossed curls around her shoulders. He hadn't seen her in three years, and she hadn't changed a bit, perhaps a bit more cold than he would like but it didn't matter, she was a grown woman and had her own mind now.

"I've missed you, sweetheart," he murmured.

Devon smiled a little, leaning her head onto his shoulder; he had changed his cologne. "I missed you too, Daddy."


End file.
